


in a galaxy, far, far away

by entirelymental



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band), Rock Music RPF, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, To Be Edited, Vignettes, What Was I Thinking?, i wrote this months ago but im just posting it lmao, original trilogy, princess!brian, smuggler!roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 23:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entirelymental/pseuds/entirelymental
Summary: Roger Taylor, your average space smuggler and intergalactic cosmic pirate, gets more than he bargained for when he agrees to take Freddie Mercury on a voyage to save a space prince (and the universe apparently) from the clutches of the Death Star.Essentially, a rehashing of episodes IV, V, and VI but Queen-ified, and specifically Maylor-ified.





	in a galaxy, far, far away

**Author's Note:**

> look yes yes YES i know that everybody thinks it would make more sense for roger to be the princess bc of his height and feminine qualities (which is somewhat problematic on its own but i'll digress), but hear me out: Han's rugged, confident, oozing charm is more akin with Roger's personality. Whereas Leia's calculated, intelligence, and haughty demeanor, is more intuned with Brian. anyways i said what i said and wrote what i wrote. happy reading!

“Get behind me! Get behind me!” Roger yells to his furry companion. He braces the blaster in his grip and points at the set of doors in front of them. Stormtroopers come crashing through, shooting through the door, and the blond must duck wildly as lasers come from every direction.

He blasts his weapon at as many of them as he can, and even manages to blow a couple of them off their feet. How he loathes the sight of them, in their pompous, villainous get-up. When, and if, he manages to get off this damned space ship alive, he’s taking the mother of all showers to sanitize himself from stormtrooper costume he himself wore to bypass.

But it seems like every time Roger and Chewie knock one down, another one takes their place. Soon enough, he realizes it’s a losing fight, and he and his companion make haste for the corridor behind them.

_Where the hell is Freddie?_

Roger doesn’t have to run too far when he finally careens into the man.

And he’s got the prince with him, as well.

“Can’t get out that way!” Roger bellows at the two. His gaze darts back and forth from the duo and then back to the entrance. The Sith Lord’s cronies were gaining on them, and Roger knew they had to think fast.

“Looks like you cut off our only escape route!”

Roger’s attention snapped back to the sound of the voice. It sure as hell wasn’t Freddie’s usual nasal, so the rapport had to have been from their new team member. The _nerve_.

“Well, maybe you like it better in your cell, your highness.”

The prince had just begun to formulate a response when the sound of a laser beam went off, flying above the trio’s head just a few feet away. Roger shoved the three of them back, Chewie following soundlessly, and the quartet pressed themselves against the walls as blasters went off and laser beams ricocheted off the walls around them.

It was up to Roger and Chewie to put up some level of defense against the barrage of Stormtroopers now headed their way. Freddie was too busy trying to communicate with one of the droids – J-3PO, or something like that – to help them reconfigure their route. It was proving to be more difficult as the smoke started to clear up, and Roger was able to see just how outnumbered they were. From the corner of his eye, he could see the prince put a hand on Freddie’s shoulder, eyes flicking back from the efforts his so-called rescue team was making to the array of blasters going off in front of them.

“There isn’t any other way out!” Freddie shouted at him, at last.

_Fuck_. “They can’t hold out forever!” The blond shouted right back, “Now what?”

“This is some rescue! You came in here, you didn’t have a plan for getting out?”

It was the prince again. Except this time, he sounded more annoyed than anything else.

“He’s the brain, sweetheart!” He said between blasts from his gun. A couple of moments went by where all that could be heard from either side was the sound of blasters going off and feet being swept off the ground. He looked from the corner of his eye and saw Freddie’s blaster lifting up, and hoped internally that the man’s aim would help knock down some troopers and buy them time to look through the ship for an alternative route.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the prince pick up the man’s blaster and make a b-line for the center of the corridor.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The prince replied hotly without a second glance, “Someone has to save our skins!”

He expertly cocked the gun in his grip, closed an eye, and fired a few shots into the crowd of Stormtroopers. Much to the surprise of, well, everyone in the vicinity, the man managed to blast a few men off their boots and careening into the walls nearest them. Roger watched in amazement as the prince’s expression turned stoic, mowing down the soldiers wheels across desert sand.

With a sharp twist of the torso, the prince fired a blast so close to Roger that the blond figured that he had decided to go awol and just take down anyone in his sight. He followed the laser to its destination and found that the prince blew a hole through the wall nearest him. The foul stench emitting from thereafter led Roger to realize it was the entrance to one place only. Before he had time to protest, he heard the prince call out:

“Into the garbage chute, flyboy!”

Roger watched as the prince aimed one last shot at the stormtroopers before languidly tossing himself into the entrance, white frock a blur as he disappeared into nothingness. Chewie soon followed suit, and Roger and Freddie both looked at one another, knowing they had no choice. Freddie at least had the decency to look vaguely apologetic at the mess he’d gotten them into. Roger snapped at him before he had the chance to utter any apologies.

“Wonderful prince! Either I’m gonna kill him, or I’m beginning to like him!”

* * *

Roger wiped the sweat off his brow, breathing a sigh of relief; it wasn’t enough to barely make it out of the Death Star alive, but now his prized ship was being actively targeted by said Death Star and everyone on board managed to scrape on by through the skin of their teeth. Had it not been for Roger and Chewie monitoring the controls on one plane, and Freddie monitoring on the other end, they easily would’ve been pulverized by the commandeering enemy.

Chewie left elsewhere to check the damage to other parts of the ship when the prince came in and sat next to Roger. The blonde removed his gloves and smiled at his newfound seating partner. The prince eyed him critically through his nest of curly hair. It was almost as though he couldn’t believe that so much self-assuredness could exist, densely compacted, in one short smuggler.

Which was… fair.

“Can you call that a clean escape, or what?” Roger tried for humor.

“Don’t be daft,” The prince responded thickly. “They let us escape. They could’ve crushed us in the palm of their hands easily if they wanted to. All of that, the chase… it was far too easy.”

Roger snorted, “What part of that looked easy to you?”

“You know, I think they could be tracking us.”

“And I think you’re being paranoid.”

The prince stared at him, unable to distinguish when the smuggler was trying to get under his skin, and when he was being genuine. He decided to brush aside that last comment and change the topic. He figured he could at least talk about it in depth with Freddie, or even one of the droids, later.

“Well, at least the secrets I stored in that bass droid are still intact.”

“Yeah, you and he—” Roger jabbed his thumb in the general direction behind him, obviously referring to Freddie who was somewhere on the ship, fucking about. “have been going on an awful lot about that. What’s in that damned robot that’s so important that we need to risk our lives for it?”

“Well when we dock at the next safe point, I’ll be able to discuss it in full detail.”

Roger laughed. It was a nasty sort of sound in context, and the prince’s eyes hardened at the response. “Look, I don’t know what you and he are planning on, but I sure am not getting involved any further beyond dropping you lot off and getting the reward I was promised before getting involved in this in the first place.”

“I see,” came the response next to him, softened, but still bearing the weight of someone who had just been let down for what may have been the thousandth time that day. Roger pushed away any sense of guilt he may have been feeling. “well, if it’s a reward you want, it’s a reward you’ll get.” With that, the prince rose from his seat and moved to leave. It was a bit majestic and fitting, the white of his cape billowing softly as he got up and turned. However, Roger didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of turning to watch him leave, though he desperately wanted to, so he remained focused on resetting the control panel in front of him and catching a fleeting glance from his peripheral.

Freddie’s timing could not have been more perfect, as he swing in from the corner just as the Prince was about to round his way out. Roger could just make out the brief exchange of words between them.

“Some partner you’ve got. I doubt he cares about anything, or anyone.”

He shook off the assumption and flicked on some overhead switches when he heard Freddie slump in the co-pilot seat next to him. “So, what do you think of him Rog?” He asked just as the coast was clear.

“I’m trying not to, Fred.”

Trying was the keyword here.

He was really trying his best here. That prince really knew how to get under his skin with his pompous, revolutionary attitude. Why they couldn’t save a damsel in distress, he couldn’t figure. Hell, at least he could’ve at least gotten a physical reward on top of the cash and notoriety with a damsel. But this one, bursting into his life in white satin frocks, a dark curly mane that seemed to hold all the plans and strategies he’d cooked up since his imprisonment, was a fire that only livened every time someone tried to pour water over it.

“Still, he’s got a lot of spirit.” Roger started, mouth twisting into a mischievous grin. He looked back at the space where the prince occupied before storming off. He couldn’t deny the fact that any wild haired brunette storming off always triggered the same reaction from him. “What do you think? You think a prince and a guy like me—”

“No,” immediately quipped Freddie, the corner of his mouth pulling into a wry smirk.

* * *

Roger leapt down from the Millennium Falcon and b-lined over to where Freddie was. The man was still clad in an orange x-pilot jumpsuit, tassels and equipment in tow. The helmet was abandoned, however, and Roger was able to spot that messy black mane in the pool of aliens and extraterrestrials and other co-pilots around him. He crashed into Freddie’s arms and the two embraced each other, completely immersed in their mirth and pride.

Together, they managed to blow up the Death Star into smithereens.

“I knew you’d come back! I just knew it!”

“Well, I couldn’t let you reap the reward and take all the credit could I?”

Freddie was about to say something else when a third figure sprung from the crowd and engulfed them in an embrace. Roger could feel himself being lifted off the ground and spun when he looked down and saw the same familiar white satin, curly tangles of hair, and lanky figure. It was the prince.

He laughed into the man’s neck until he was finally set down, slapping the shoulders playfully to convince him to ease on the spinning. “Hey, there.” He mustered, smile still plastered on his face, when his feet were safely on the ground, and the prince was gazing at him contently from above.

“I knew there was more to you than money,”

Roger’s heart skipped a few beats.

* * *

Another day. Another brush from death. Another day Roger wonders why he hasn’t left yet.

He tells himself it’s because he’s in too deep, that he’s got his debts to pay and he’s gonna need more money than they’re promising if he’s going to see it through. He tells himself it’s because he feels bad for Freddie (he’s already lost his family, his mentor – Jim Kenobi, something or other – and putting up with the J-3PO and the Bass droid alone could drive anyone up the wall). Roger convinces himself, and Chewie, that his reasoning is strictly platonic.

Somewhere in the distance, the prince is welding one of the pipes on his ship, and there’s some smudged grease smeared across his cheek. Chewie, of course, notices Roger staring at the tall brunette from the corner of his eyes and makes a knowing growl that is still undecipherable from the rest of his speech to anyone with untrained ears. Roger waves him off, all too familiar with Chewie’s insistent noises.

His reasoning is _strictly _platonic.

“Say, we’re going to need to replace these hover caps if we’re going to safely dock anywhere else. If you could get me some replacements, we can get started on it right now.” 

The wookie roared indignantly in response.

“What do you mean you don’t know? They should be in the storage where we keep triples of everything else. Just look for them and shout if you need me,”

His furry companion walked off, muttering something below his breath that Roger couldn’t quite catch. The smuggler squeezed his eyes, trying to further inspect the space for any more problems. When he officially deems that there weren’t any more, at least not any that needed to be urgently taken cared of, he stepped down from the ladder.

Once his feet are settled on the ground, he realizes he can catch a better glimpse of the prince, bent down, balanced on the balls of feet, overlooking the trapdoor to something on the ship. Some cords must’ve snapped during the last attack the damn thing endured, and the prince announced he’d had the knack for connecting wires and such from his younger years on his home planet. His eyebrows are furrowed together in concentration, and Roger can’t help but find it cute. He makes his way over without even realizing it.

The prince didn’t bother looking up. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry, your highness.” Roger rebuffed, “Just wanted to check in on you.”

The taller man blew a long curl out of his face and threw Roger the absolute most clear expression of annoyance the man thought he’d ever seen. “You know, you _can _call me by my name.”

Roger stands still at that. It’s not quite the response he’s expecting. The way their exchanges usually are, he was waiting for a middle finger, or at least a long-winded monologue on how Roger was wasting time they could be using to help save the universe. The request seems so small and personal, it made the smuggler wonder just how long the prince had been sitting on it.

“I’m sorry… _Brian_.” He took a step closer to the man, “I didn’t realize that bothered you.” Eventually, he found himself stooped over the same trapdoor watching him work. He propped an elbow on his knee, resting his face on his hand, and watched quietly as Brian contemplated two wires and their compatibility. The lankier man ultimately conjoined the two and breathed a sigh of relief when the reaction was instantaneous.

Roger really really _really _hoped he wasn’t the only way who saw the metaphor in that entire exchange.

“It didn’t, initially.” Came Brian’s delayed response. Roger had to take a moment to recall the previous statement. “but, we’ve been working together for months now, so I just figured… we could at least respect the other’s boundaries if this partnership is going to continue.”

Roger nodded, “You’re right, I could be more respectful, and just nicer, to you. But the same goes to you, too.” When Brian’s head darted at him, dubious, Roger lifted his hands as though in surrender. “I’m just saying is all.”

The taller man scoffed and closed the lid to the trapdoor, symbolizing both the end of his work and the end of the conversation. He rose up, dusting off his hands, and made his way to the corridor, hoping to leave Roger in the dust.

No such luck.

Roger couldn’t help himself. As much as he hated Brian from the start, now there was a part of himself that liked to see him storm off; there was a part that had gotten a taste for getting underneath Brian’s skin.

“Hey, c’mon now,” Roger called out, almost sing-song, following the taller man like a lovesick puppy. Which is, he imagined, how everyone else on this ship probably viewed him too. “I know you sometimes think I’m alright.”

Brian stopped in the middle of an abandoned corridor, he let out a gasping smile and rolled his eyes. “You know what? Yeah! You are_ almost_ tolerable,” He spun around, “when you _aren’t _being a complete scoundrel.”

Roger quirked his lips at that, “Scoundrel? That’s a first. I’ve been called smuggler, nerf-herder, moon-jockey—”

“_All_ of which are names that you’ve earned.”

“—But _never _scoundrel... I quite like the sound of it.”

Brian tried his best to lock his jaw and look the other way, unconvincingly crossing his arms to show annoyance at the smaller man’s cockiness and self-assuredness. But over time, he too found that the same caged heat he initially felt for Roger was withering away and morphing into something else entirely. He didn’t like it. He should be annoyed. He wanted more than anything to tell Roger to fuck off and find some other being to disturb. But even now, as the man stood before him, blue jacket, hair swept and gravity-defying, gun holster locked and loaded for action, the charm seemed to just drip off him. Heaven help him, Brian was finding the scruffy looking scoundrel more and more irresistible by the minute.

“You’re trembling,” Roger said softly, as close to Brian as he’d ever been before.

“I’m not,” The taller man, replied, as softly as his counterpart.

Roger gingerly reached for the hand that was atop of his crossed arms and unwound it, holding it in his. Lo and behold, Brian was able to see how he was shaking ever so gently within Roger’s grasp.

“You are,” The blond cocked an eyebrow, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say just maybe, you might have a thing for me.”

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you.” Brian replied, although there was no real heat to his voice. “I can’t speak for you, but I happen to like nice men.”

That was all the confirmation, and challenge, Roger needed.

“I am a nice man,” Roger whispered, leaning up and in to bridge the gap between them.

“No, you’re n…”

Brian didn’t have the chance to finish his statement as Roger’s lips finally locked in on his. His lips were plush, soft, and slightly wet against his. He smelled like smoke, and cedar wood wrapped all in one. Brian sighed contently and breathed him in, not realizing this was exactly what he had wanted until their mouths had finally met. His hand, still being held by Roger, was being lifted and pinned against the wall behind him. He felt Roger moving to do the same to the other at the time he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Brian’s back flattened against the wall, and for a few blissful moments, everything else in the world faded away.

* * *

Roger could think of worse ways to die.

Sucked into a vortex. Taken out by a stormtrooper. Being _fed _to Paul the Hutt.

But although it won’t mean he’s dead, not technically, being frozen is carbonite ranks high on the list in the most unpleasant ways to meet your fate.

He’s strapped upright, unable to break free from his captors, as the pool of the liquid carbonite gleams at him menacingly from below. The chamber is full of people all awaiting anxiously to finally see the smuggler receive what they deem are his ‘just desserts’.

He sees Tim, his former best friend, newfound enemy, unable to meet Rogers eyes as he surveys the scene from a distance with a pained expression on his face for what he’s done. Serves the bastard right. The silken cape he donned did nothing to conceal the trail of slime that seemed to glow beneath him when he walked. Roger had hoped coming to his planet would help to bridge the differences in their friendship, and mend his ship; neither had been done.

He sees the grand archidose villain himself, clad in his black attire and helmet. He only wished he could meet the man’s eyes, that he could stare him down as he lowered him to his fate. Roger felt he was at least owed that right.

He sees his furred best friend, heavily guarded and unable to make a move to free himself. Roger hopes that through his face he can convey to him that it’s okay, that he doesn’t need to save him this time. He tells him to redirect his strength and use it elsewhere.

And lastly, he sees Brian.

His Brian.

The prince’s arms are locked behind his back by one of the Darth’s cronies. The eyes that had finally begun to light up in happiness at the sight of him, the only thing Roger realized he ever wanted, were tear rimmed and broken, watching his beloved meet a fate he knew he could not stop. With every jerk forward Brian made against his captors, Roger felt a rush of affection for the curly haired man. He cursed himself quietly for burning so long, for wasting so much time in silence, for not letting Brian sooner how he felt for him.

He knew that if this was truly the last time they would ever get to see each other alive, how lucky he was to have at least been in Brian’s life at all.

Brian would go on. He knew he would.

Finally, mustering all the strength he would, Brian finally loosened up in his grip just enough to bounce forward and crash his lips on top of Roger’s for what would be their last kiss. It was slow, deep, and conveyed the desperation that both men were feeling. Brian tried to remember every last detail of Roger’s lips and face. The small crook of the nose, the softness of his lips, the thickness of his lashes. When the guard holding him ripped them apart, he gasped, upset. It wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

Across from him, Roger opened his eyes and gazed at Brian one last time. Taking in everything.

How had everything managed to go so right and so wrong in such a short amount of time?

“I love you,” Brian choked out.

“I know.” Roger replied, with a knowing nod.

Before Brian could say anything else, a noise went off like the sound of a steam, and Roger faded from sight, into the pool of carbonite.

* * *

When suspended in carbonite, time moves much more slowly.

Of course, Roger had no idea what to expect. He’d never had so much as a single thought to what it would be like, trapped beneath the substance. He remembered the steam, the freezing sensation of going under, his arms held in front of him in a vain attempt to stop everything. Then came the descent. Then came nothing.

Nothing but the barest of ideas on how time was moving. Slowly, he figured surely. However slowly he figured it was moving, he knew it was going even slower than that.

He’s able to get just the faintest inkling of his surroundings. But it’s like trying to move stone; everything but his mind is immobile. He couldn’t think of a worse punishment. Was he doomed to be like this forever? Ruminate in the deepest recesses of his mind, with no end in sight? Never to see his best friend, his furred companion…

Or even Brian.

There’s a clattering of noise in the area that is far too suspicious for his comfort. He can’t see a damned thing, being trapped in carbonite long enough that it’s begun to eat away at his senses. But, he’s still clinging onto his ears, and they’re telling him something was happening out there.

Before he could stimulate some theories or try to figure out the noises, Roger feels the carbonite around him melting away. Slowly at first, the sensations around his hands warming, and then the breeze of the normal air hitting his face. There’s blinding light all around him, and for a moment he wonders if it’s not freedom into the physical world he’s being given, but freedom into the hereafter.

Before he knows it, he’s gracelessly falling onto solid ground in front of him.

A pair of hands help to turn him around, and Roger realizes he can hardly see what’s in front of him. He see’s the vague shapes of another being, clad in some type of space suit right down to the face. He desperately wants to thank his savior, although a suspicious part of him—the part that made shady deals in cantina bars, that smuggled goods in and out of planetary systems—wonders what the catch to all of this is.

“Careful, you have motion sickness from the carbonite.” Says the voice in a higher timbre. It does nothing to soothe Roger or give him the slightest inclination as to the owner of said voice is.

“I can’t see.”

“Well, that’s comforting. You usually can’t,” Replies the same voice, with a low chuckle. It’s a bit unnerving and annoying. “But you’ll get your sight back, sooner than later.”

“Who are you?” Roger asks, vainly squinting at the figure above him. That biting remark could only remind him of one person, and he couldn’t allow himself to hope right now for them.

He could feel the figure above him pause for a moment and saw the vague motions of hands sweeping upwards to remove some type of helmet or another. Roger’s heart quickened a bit when he could see the dark shadows of hair cascading outward from the helmet. He didn’t trust his eyesight, not yet, but he swore those were curly strands of hair falling outward from it. The hands that were on him, then on the helmet, returned to cradle his body and face once more. They felt familiar and homely, hands that were once smooth and soft, turned hard and callused.

“Who are you?” He asked again, this time softly.

“Somebody who loves you.”

* * *

Their backs are up against the wall, literally.

And not in the way Roger would have preferred considering his recent return to the living, breathing world.

The stormtroopers have got them all cornered, and Roger knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to use his blaster without getting some shots right to the back.

God, and they were _so close_.

The door was right there, Brian was about to crack it open, and the droids had finally caught up them.

The entire fate of the universe was literally five minutes away but they weren’t quick enough. Roger curses himself internally again. He’s always in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seems. He shakes his head in defeat at Brian, raising both of his hands into the air and accepting the loss presented to him. Maybe they won’t kill them, he tries to comfort himself into thinking. Maybe they’ll get lucky and get held captive all together; him, Brian, Chewie, Freddie, even the blasted droids. Form a chain gang of some sorts.

But for right now, all he can do is shield Brian in the event any rogue shots came in. Let them blast him away, just don’t let them come near his beloved.

Until, at least, Brian gave him the smallest of smirks and discreetly showed him his very own blaster; sheathed beneath the lavish camouflage he was wearing. No stormtrooper had caught on to it yet. Roger’s eyes quietly widened, the beautiful bastard didn’t even let _him _know. Once Roger stepped aside, Brian could aim for the group of unsuspecting stormtroopers behind him. They weren’t prepared for the prince of the rebellion to have a blaster, after all. He was supposed to have the threads and the brain, not the guns. 

A man of duality.

Roger sighs _dreamily_. “God, I love you.”

Brian smiles knowingly at him. “I know.”

And then the blonde smuggler throws his body to the side as Brian blasts those fuckers into oblivion.

* * *

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen such harmony amongst humans and creatures alike in his life.

There’re celebrations all over Endor. The remaining fleets of Rebels mingle with ewoks and other various space creatures over campfires; he see’s Tim chatting contentedly with J-3PO, the Bass droid, and Freddie; he even catches a glimpse of Chewie sitting helplessly as a herd of smaller furry little ewoks dress him up in flowers and other decorations. The wookie seems like he’s going to refuse the smaller creatures attempts to decorate him, but eventually gives in when one tucks a crown of jasmine flowers onto the top of his head. Roger shakes his head at the sight and laughs.

To think, he’s been hurtling around the galaxy for who even knows how long now, and it’s the first time in his life he thinks he feels content within himself.

Almost.

“Roger!”

_Almost._

He turns his head so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash.

There he is, the prince, in all of his glory.

Brian’s long since abandoned the camouflage getup he was required to wear for safety while trekking through the grassy knolls and canopies of Endor. Now, he donned a beige tunic with white bell sleeves and pants to match. His usual crown of curls cascaded down and across the tops of his shoulders. There was some type of knitting or flower pattern interwoven into individual strands that would’ve looked too flowery on anyone else, but seemed to soften him his sweet, angular face just enough. The warmness of his brown eyes was unmatched by anything else in the universe – even the morning sun would look down upon him in envy.

In that moment, he was ethereal. Anything but a prince, anything but a general, or even a human being. He turned up like a vision, unannounced, right into Roger’s path.

He was looking right at him, and it was almost too much.

“Brian,” He breathed, letting go of the tree he was leaned up against to survey the scene around him.

The two men looked at each other for a few helpless moments before making a complete b-line for one another. Roger felt like his feet couldn’t pick themselves up fast enough to get to Brian quick enough. The duo crashed into one another, and it seemed like eternities had passed from the last moment they saw one another.

Roger’s lips were firmly on Brian’s for the older man could get a word in. His hands were on Brian’s shoulders, clasping tightly. There was a part of him he’d never admit out loud that feared if he let go of Brian, he might never get the chance to this again. Fate was really going out of its way to intervene with his love life as of late.

Brian’s hands cradled Roger’s neck, catching the younger man’s face upwards in a kiss. They both could feel the swell of attention coming their way from all-around, but neither man seemed to care. After months and months of this constant cat-and-mouse game, all either wanted to do was completely wrap themselves up in one another.

It was Roger who reluctantly let go to breathe, catching his breath as Brian leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. They both laughed and smiled at one another.

“Bet you never saw this coming when Fred and I came to rescue you,” Roger quipped, he couldn’t help it.

Instead of the usual eye-rolling, Brian laughed and lightly chastised him. “Must you cheapen the moment?”

“Of course,” He replied, “You love it,”

“I love _you_.”

Roger pulled back a bit, waiting to respond. He wanted to take it all in. The hardships, the fights, the victories that the day had awarded him. He looked at Brian, his sweet, strong, prince. Eyes a rich, soft brown that rivaled the lush bark of the forest around them. He was beautiful, he was intelligent, he was brave. And he could be with any one of these fighters amongst the rebel alliance, and heaven knows any of these fighters wanted to have him, and yet, Brian was here with him.

Roger sighed contentedly at the dumb luck that had brought him to the cantina that day. One day, he’d have to pay the universe back for that one. But until then—

“Roger? You in there?... my God, did you even hear me?”

“Of course,” the smuggler assured him. “I was thinking…”

_I’m the luckiest man in the universe._

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, leave a kudos or a comment! Thanks for sticking until the end!


End file.
